Dean Writes Creepypasta
by Demonic Irken
Summary: Dean becomes obsessed with reading Creepypasta, and resolves to write his own.
1. Chapter 1

Dean sat at the table during dinner, eating pasta that Sam had prepared for him. While he ate, he also secretly was reading scary stories on his phone under the table, known as 'creepypastas' since Sam had a strict 'no phones during dinner' rule, which Dean disapproved of.

"This pasta is total garbage!" Dean yelled out suddenly.

Sam gave him a look of confusion and offense. "I thought you liked my pasta, Dean!"

"Well, not this one." Dean muttered under his breath. He looked up, realizing what he had said. "I mean, I wasn't talking about your food, that's beyond excellent."

"What were you talking about, then?" Sam said in disbelief, crossing his arms while he waited for a response from his elder brother.

"Um… I was talking about…" Dean stopped. "I have to get something from under the table." He slid out of his chair and onto the floor. After about a minute, Sam heard Dean giggling. He looked down to see him on his phone.

"DEAN!" He yelled. Dean screamed and threw his phone up into the air out of surprise. He banged his head on the table in the process.

Dean rubbed his head and glared at his brother. "What, Sammy? I'm still looking for…" He looked around, spotting a noodle. "I was looking for this noodle that I dropped."

Sam gave him a look of obvious disbelief. "I can see you, Dean. You're reading stories on your phone during dinner again, aren't you? What have I said about that?"

"Well, I think that rule of yours is stupid, Sam!" Dean argued while he got back into his seat at the table. "I happen to love reading creepypasta!"

"It gives you nightmares, Dean!" Sam said. "Every night you wake up scared, saying that Slenderman or a zombie or something similar is out to get you."

Dean scoffed. "I do not!"

Sam held out his hand. "Give me your phone, Dean."

Dean's eyes grew wide. "No, it's mine! You'll never get me Lucky Charms!"

Sam was confused. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't even know." He stormed out of the kitchen, phone in hand.

"Where do you think you're going, Dean? Get back here this instant!" Sam yells after him.

"I'm eating in my room tonight!" Dean yelled back. He stopped and went back into the kitchen. "Forgot my pasta." He muttered before resuming his previous action of storming off back to his room.

While he ate his food in his room, Dean thought about how much he hated his little brother. "Stupid Sam, with his stupid rules!" He complained under his breath.

He opened the story he had been reading on his phone earlier, continuing from where he left off. "Yeah, tear her guts out!" Dean said with a mouth full of pasta, rooting for the monster in the story.

He smiled to himself as he read in vivid detail how the girl in the story was killed, as the monster bit her head off. Dean cheered, happy that the story had ended how he had hoped it would.

He spent the next few hours in his room that night, exploring the rest of the website. When he was in the middle of reading a particularly good one about a zombie apocalypse, Sam burst through his door and startled Dean.

"AHHH!" Dean screamed. "ZOMBIE!" He picked up a dumbbell nearby and threw it at Sam. "DIE ZOMBIE!"

The object hit Sam in the face, knocking him to the ground. Dean jumped off the bed and started kicking him.

"I'm not a zombie!" Sam yelled with his arms around his head to protect it from Dean's vicious attacks.

Dean stopped. "You're not?" He ceased his assault on his brother. "Oh. That's good. That's very good."

Sam groaned and stood up, rubbing his face while he winced with pain. "All of those stories you've been reading have gone to your head, Dean! I think you should take a break from them for awhile."

Dean was shocked. "WHAT?!" He screamed, making Sam cover his ears at the volume. "NO! Creepypasta is my life!"

Sam uncovered his ears and glared at him. "You only just discovered it yesterday, Dean!"

"Yeah, well, I wish I would have found out about these stories sooner, because I've got a lot of catching up to do now!" Dean responded defensively. "I might even try my hand at writing my own creepypasta one day! With all that we've been through, it wouldn't be too hard."

Sam brought over a piece of paper and a pencil. "Okay, well if you think you're so great, why don't you start right now?"

Dean stared at his brother, then at the paper, and back again. "Um… okay." He began writing. "I saw a clown. It had…" he stopped as his pencil broke. "Aw, shit! Sammy, I broke my pencil. Could I get a new one?"

Sam sighed and gave him another one. "You're holding the pencil too tightly. Try relaxing your grip on it."

Dean smirked. "That's what she said." Then he got serious. "Okay, here we go." He began writing again:

 _The clown was ugly. It had a big fat red nose, like Rudolph the Reindeer. It smiled at me with pointed teeth. I was so freaked out by the sight that I sprayed him in the face with pepper spray. He choked like a bitch and fell over dead. The End._

Dean looked over his work and nodded approvingly, smiling and patting himself on the back. "I think that's enough writing for today." He said happily.

Sam snatched the paper and read through it with a frown. "This is only a paragraph, Dean! It's not nearly long enough to even be considered a creepypasta!" He set the paper down with a sigh. "I think you should do more research for the story or something before you call it complete."

Dean smiled. "Well, I happen to be quite proud of it, Sammy! It's pretty good for my first story."

His younger brother rolled his eyes. "It's not even that scary. Creepypasta's are supposed to scare the reader, that's their purpose! This isn't even close to that."

Dean groaned. "What do you want from me, Sam? Huh?" He began poking his brother on the shoulder. "Huh? Huh? What do you want, Sammy? What. Do. You. Want?"

"I want you to stop poking me!" Sam growled irritably. Dean smirked and poked him once more before respecting his brother's wishes.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat at the table the next day, eating breakfast while reading his creepypasta when Sam walked into the kitchen. "Morning, Sammy." Dean said, not looking up from his phone.

Sam groaned when he saw him. "Dean, remember that you're not supposed to have your phone at the table?"

His brother looked up at him. "Well, you know, I've been thinking about that, and I've decided to just ignore that rule. So this is gonna be a regular thing now. Get used to it." He went back to his story.

Sam sighed and sat down across from him, trying to ignore the giggles and gasps and pig snorts from Dean as he got enthralled by whatever he was reading. At one point, Dean screamed out loud, making Sam throw his fork in the air from surprise.

"NO, NOT JENNY!" Dean was yelling. "RUN, JENNY, RUN!" He yelled at his phone. Sam gave him a dirty look and got up from the table to eat somewhere else in the bunker while Dean kept yelling at his phone.

"No, don't go that way, go the OTHER way!" Dean shouted desperately. Sam cleared his throat to get his attention. Dean made a 'go away' motion with his hand while his eyes were glued to the phone screen.

Sam walked over to him and swiftly snatched the phone from his grip, shocking Dean. "No! Give it back! I gotta know what happened to Jenny!"

Sam scowled. "Dean, I'm putting this up until you're done with your breakfast, okay?"

"Sammy, give my phone back this instant!" Dean demanded angrily.

The younger brother shook his head. "Not happening. What are you even reading, anyway?" He looked at the screen. "The Murder On Mulbury Hill. Well, that sounds fascinating." He said sarcastically.

Dean nodded. "Uh-huh! It is! It's very captivating. Now gimme my phone back."

Sam went to the closet and put it up on the highest shelf. "I'm just putting it up here for now. You can have it back when you're done eating."

Dean picked up the salt shaker. "I'll throw this at you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're still not getting your phone back."

The elder of the two sighed and sat back down to finish eating his breakfast. He stuffed the food into his mouth in two huge bites and quickly got up from the table and went to retrieve his phone when Sam stopped him.

"You're still chewing, Dean. Wait until you've swallowed first."

Dean stood there for a few minutes, trying to choke down the huge bites in his mouth so he could get back to the amazing story he had been reading earlier.

When he was done, he rushed to the closet and snatched up his phone. "Yes!" He hissed victoriously to himself. He opened up the story and began to read again as he walked back to his room.

When he finished reading it, he left a super long comment about how amazing and great he thought it was. He had just started reading another story by the same writer when Sam knocked on his door.

"Dean, we have a case. Two Wendigo's just ate some campers."

"Ok, see ya, Sammy." Dean said dismissively, not really listening to what his brother was saying to him.

Sam went up to him and put his hand over the screen. Dean looked up at him, annoyed. "What?"

"You're coming, too. It'll be good for you to get out of the bunker for once. Enjoy some fresh air for a little while."

Dean groaned loudly. "Alright, fine." He got up from his bed and followed Sam to the Impala while still reading his story.

The whole drive to the site, Sam had to listen to Dean yelling at his phone again while he became immersed in his story. "HIT HIM! NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TOMMY?! USE THE KNIFE, STUPID!"

Sam turned on some music to drown out the sound of his brother yelling at fictional characters. He sighed in relief when they finally arrived at their destination a few minutes later. He made Dean put his phone away when they stopped and got out.

Sam talked with the sheriff while Dean explored the campsite. Quickly becoming bored with his task, he sneakily got out his phone again and continued reading his creepypasta.

He hid in the backyard of the house, quickly crawling under the trampoline so that Sam wouldn't see him reading. He was so absorbed in the story that he didn't hear his brother coming up from behind him.

"Dean, are you doing under the trampoline?" Sam asked, making Dean jump in shock.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Sammy? Because you're doing a pretty good job of that lately." The elder Winchester replied as he hid his phone behind his back.

Sam rolled his eyes, sighing heavily in annoyance. "You never answered my question. What are you doing back here? You better not be doing anything that might come back to haunt us later!"

Dean did not answer, shuffling his feet and just hoping that Sam didn't find out what he was doing.

Too late. "Are you reading those stories again?" Sam asked suspiciously, "I thought I had told you not to do that while we're working a case."

Dean scoffed. "No, of course not! What makes you think that?"

"Well, if you're not reading stories than what are you doing in the backyard?" Sam questioned, knowing his brother was lying. "We're supposed to be out front talking to the witnesses who saw the Wendigo."

"Um…" Dean faltered, trying to think of something to say. "Well, you're not dong your job, either! So HA! What do you gotta say to THAT, Mr. Buzzkill?"

Sam shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Hs brother could be really complicated at times. "Look, Dean, you need to stay focused on this case. Your stories will still be there when we get done. You can read them later."

"I wanna read them now, Sammy. We've already done so much hunting this week. We've killed at least twenty monsters, and its only Wednesday! I think I deserve a break for once, don't you?" Dean argued.

"Your phone is becoming a distraction! Do I have to start blocking that website? Actually, while we're on the topic, do I need to block all of your favorite porn sites, too?"

Dean gasped. "No! Not Sexy Girls dot com! That's my all time favorite site! Please, anything but that!" He picked up a big handful of mud from the ground. "And if you even TRY to take my phone again, you're gonna get a mouthful of mud! Maybe even TWO mouthfuls, and maybe I'll also ruin your perfect hair that took you an hour to brush this morning!"

"Then if you don't want that to happen, try to pay attention to the case. At least until dinner time." Sam said as he put a hand on his hair to protect it in case his brother decided to throw the mud at him.

Dean groaned and threw the mud to the ground. "FINE! I'll try to behave until its time for dinner. After that, I can't make any promises."

Sam nodded, satisfied with his answer, "Okay then. Come on, we have work to do."


End file.
